


No Sick Days for P.I.'s

by BotchedExperiment



Category: Mark Whelms P.I. Series - Kevin Lau
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, maybe plot later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9175672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BotchedExperiment/pseuds/BotchedExperiment
Summary: Mark learns that people care about him. Also, there's crime.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is actually two fanfics I had started in May, put together like some kind of freak of nature. It's beautiful. Will probably add plot later (or what could be considered plot in a fluffy sickfic oops)
> 
> To Kevin: I tried.

It's a casual comment that almost goes right over Mark's head.

"I've seen you around with that redhead recently."

He blinks at Jacob, who's busy working on paperwork from the case that kept them up all night. Mark can’t help but think, since when is his love life any of Jacob's business? Good golly, can't he be around a girl without people interrogating him?

"Who, Karen? So? It's not like-"

"Whoa there," Jacob stops him, a hint of amusement on his face. "If you're going to get defensive about it then forget it. I was just stating a fact." He marks something on a paper and turns it over. "What's up with you today anyway?"

"I wasn’t-! You know what? Just keep doing your paperwork."

Jacob has no problem doing so.

"I'm just a little annoyed that this case completely ruined my date."

"With Karen?"

"No! Not with Karen. Jeez."

"Well, I only asked for your help, Mark. You didn't need to come."

"I did if I want to get paid." Mark sighs, but that sigh turns into a cough.

"Jesus," Jacob frowns. "Sounds like you're catching something."

"That's insane. If I was sick I'd know it."

Jacob doesn't argue. He doesn't know, but when Mark gets sick, it's bad. It was always bad. So how does Mark know he's not getting ill? Because he's still conscious. Ha. So yes, he is healthy, and if he wasn’t, his vision would be swimming just like it was right now.

Oh, crap.

Leave it to Jacob to be right all the time when he isn't even the one with awesome superpowers.

"You okay?" Mark wonders how long Jacob has been watching him like that, one eyebrow raised. "You spaced out for a bit there."

Mark waves it off dismissively. Being as cool and casual as possible, he stands up. "If you don't have any more work for me, I should just head home."

"And do what?"

"Oh, y'know, feed my goldfish, watch some soaps, take up knitting. The usual. See ya tomorrow." He starts his walk out of the station before Jacob has a chance to protest because, frankly, Mark wants to go home as quickly as he can before he gets sicker and stuck with Jacob saying "I told you so".

The private investigator makes it as far as the bullpen door before he finds himself leaning against the wall.

"Mark?" Jacob is heading toward him with a sense of urgency.

Mark waits until the black spots disappear from his vision before he bothers to look up at the detective. He shakes his head as if to clear it.

Hey, is that worry on Jacob's face? Awe.

If Mark wasn’t feeling so out of it he would have totally said something smug about Jacob caring about him.

"You’re sick," Jacob accuses. "I knew it."

"What gave you that idea?" Mark stands up straight, relinquishing his grip on the door frame.

"Okay, uh . . ." Jacob massages the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "I can't let you drive home like this."

"Like what? I live five minutes away," Mark argues. "I'll be fine. I'm fine, Jacob."

"Better safe than sorry. I don't want you passing out in the middle of the station," Jacob says as he grabs his keys from his pocket.

Suddenly, Jacob is telling someone that he's leaving and will be back soon, and Mark is being dragged out of the precinct.

"What about my car?" Mark asks as he got into Jacob's much nicer vehicle.

"Worry about that later."

The drive consists of Mark falling asleep while Jacob lectures him. "I don’t know why you bothered to leave home like this" and "I swear you're so dumb for a smart kid sometimes".

\-----

The next day isn’t one of his best. On top of being dizzy and exhausted beyond belief, Mark also can’t take a simple breath without coughing up a lung.

Mark has always tried to convince himself that he wouldn’t get sick when flu season came around. He'd be fine this year! But he never was. Flu season has come down on him fast and hard, keeping him from working or doing anything useful. Instead, he's laid up in his apartment watching horrible daytime TV.

He's almost asleep before Mark hears one - and only one - knock before his favorite redhead (as she likes to call herself) barges into his apartment.

"Usually when people knock, they wait for someone to open the door and then come in." The P.I. mumbled from his couch.

"I know, I'm sorry," Karen sounds slightly apologetic. "I offered to grab some thingy of your mom's you borrowed the other day to make cookies? How'd that date go, by the way?"

Mark coughs. "I don't feel like talking about it."

"That bad, huh?" Karen asks as she pulls a hundred year-old electric mixer off of his kitchen counter. "I just can't believe you thought making cookies with a girl was a good idea for a first date." She sits down by his feet, mixer resting in her lap. "Or holding the entire date at your place."

He sits up and rubs his face. The blanket falls off of his shoulders sending a fever-induced shiver down his spine and creating unnecessary goosebumps on his skin. "The date would've gone great if Jacob didn’t interrupt by calling me to a crime scene."

Karen stifles a laugh. "Oh God, I'm so," a snort. "so sorry. Nothing says romance like a mutilated body in a dumpster, amiright?"

"Anyway," Mark continues, ignoring her. "I don’t think there'll be a second date."

Mark is already sick and talking about his horrible love life bums him out more. Though it may surprise some people, the young private investigator is not the best with women.

A couple minutes of silence go by while the two are distracted by the horrible soap opera on TV. Mark suddenly feels a hand on his knee.

"You feeling alright, by the way? Your mom said you were getting sick last night when she talked to you." If Mark doesn't know any better, he would almost mistake that tone in her voice for concern.

"Uh . . ." How does she think he's feeling? He's covered in blankets and sweaters and he hasn’t eaten in twenty-four hours and . . .

Karen places a hand on his forehead before he has a chance to answer. Mark wants to pull away, but her hand feels so cool. The coolness seems to dissolve on his skin, disappearing just as quickly as it came. And then her hand goes to his cheek and then his neck and by then his blushing may not have just been the fever.

"Mark, you're really warm." She tells him matter-of-factly.

He scoffs. "Oh, really?"

"Don't be smart. Maybe I'm worried about you, huh?"

"Naw you don't have to be," he says with a cough, and then two. "It's going around. Actually, you probably shouldn't be here."

"Psh. I don't get sick."

"That's what you said right before that one time when-"

"Ah!" She presses a finger to his lips. "We don't talk about that."

Rolling his eyes, Mark pushes her hand away from his face and flops against the couch with an exasperated sigh.

" 'm tired."

"Uh, then go to sleep."

Easier said than done. He can't make himself sleep. Mark is so used to having stuff to do, so used to keeping his brain busy, that he could never quiet his mind, especially during the day. It seems to be one side effect of his . . . abilities. Napping is hard.

"Can't."

". . . Oh." For once in her life, Karen seems at a loss of words. She knows him, almost too well sometimes, Mark realizes when she says, "Want me to stay and hang out 'til you fall asleep?"

Yes, yes he did. "I'm not five, Karen."

She shrugs, standing up. "Okay, fine. I'd better get going, anyway. Your mom's probably ready to start the cupcakes."

"Wait, Karen . . ." Mark sighs. "Maybe if you could just stay for a few extra minutes, y'know, just to-"

"Yeah," She says, a smile on her face. "I can stay."


End file.
